


Game

by by_no_one_more_than_me (Lady_Cleo)



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Secretary (2002)
Genre: Blood and Violence, F/M, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, My First Work in This Fandom, Violent Sex, You Have Been Warned, this is dark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-30
Updated: 2014-03-30
Packaged: 2018-01-14 09:31:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1261408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Cleo/pseuds/by_no_one_more_than_me
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lee Holloway left Florida for a new town: Gotham. and what was waiting for her was beyond anything she could dare to imagine...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Game

**Author's Note:**

> Lee shows up in Gotham and applies to the Joker's ad. when she gets overly honest in her interview, he knocks her out. then... this happens.

I awake in a daze, my mind foggy from being throttled into unconsciousness, my nose pressed painfully into a cold concrete floor. I roll onto my side and look around, trying to assess my surroundings. The room is dark except for the lights of the Gotham skyline in the distance, but I can tell it's not exactly lavish with decoration. In fact, it seems empty, save for me and whatever is making that strange breathing sound.

As my eyes adjust further, I make out the Joker standing a few feet away, shoulders hunched as he stares out the far side of the window with an impatience that confuses me. Shifting his weight from foot to foot causes him to rock back and forth like a metronome, and I find myself watching for a minute before trying to sit up. I'm having difficulty, and the noise causes him to turn and lock his dark eyes with mine.

“Ahh, you're back. For an hour or so, I thought I might have pinched that jugular just a _bit_ too hard.” A pleased grin stretches his lips as he crouches in front of me. “Having a problem, are you? Well, since you said you liked being spanked so much, I decided to give you a masochistic little thrill and tie you up for the evening.” My face flames as I recall my honest outburst in the interview that had won me the job.

Finally noticing the pressure around my wrists and ankles, I stare in astonishment at the rope binding my body securely in place, a momentary tingle of excitement surging through my veins when I recalled all the "games" Edward and I used to play. He’d typically tie me up and take a paddle to my exposed ass, yet _somehow_ I didn’t think the Joker had the same thing in mind. I’m snapped out of my reverie by a backhanded blow that sends my head smacking into the floor.

“Hey! I'm talking to you.” One gloved hand grips my face painfully and forces me to look at him. “Did your parents completely fail to raise you right, or are you just too stupid and scared to remember something as simple as manners?” He flings me down and starts to pace, his speech getting more frenzied with each sentence. “God, people like you make me sick. You don’t pay attention when you should, you don’t know how to take care of yourself, you get yourself into dangerous situations that you can’t get out of without some hulking _freak_ –” punctuated with a sharp kick to my ribcage – “in a costume coming to the rescue! And you _never_ learn! You’ll just depend on someone else for everything until the day you trip on your own idiocy and _die_ the way you deserve!!”

Inside, something snaps at his words. A fury unlike any I've ever experienced fills me at that moment, my teeth gritting as I struggle against my restraints like a fish caught on land. Naturally I don't appreciate the sneering derision and violent diatribes being directed at me, but at the moment I genuinely want nothing more than to claw his eyes out. The orbs in question seem to glimmer with glee at my rage, which only fuels it. How dare he get his jollies from making fun of me?!

A delighted hoot of laughter escapes his lips as he kneels beside me. “Ooh hoo hoo, well wouldja look at this? The kitten actually has _claws_ under that cute little exterior!” Leaning in close, he slyly urges me on in an insistent whisper. “So tell me, gumdrop, and be honest: do you want to hurt me? Do you wanna take one of my knives and _cut_ into my _skin?_ Is the thought of ending my life so utterly _enjoyable_ that you can’t stand the thought of me living a moment longer?”

Trembling with anger and fear that he's able to read my thoughts so easily, I bite my lip and shake my head. Maybe if I convince him he's wrong, he'll let me go. Unfortunately, I suck at lying. Bracing myself for impact, I'm confused to feel his hands move behind me, deftly untying my restraints. Puzzled by this unexpected turn of events, I crane my neck to watch as he works, his tongue peeking out of his mouth in concentration before he gives a pleased little “There!” and pats my cheek. I draw my legs to my chest and rub the sore spots on my wrists. “Aaaall better now. You probably would have been a boring conquest anyway. One of those little vanilla girls who just likes a little pat on the ass to make the sex seem more racy. No wonder you're single.” He stops, as if stunned to still see me sitting before him. “Go on. Get out of here. Just because you lack the guts to take my life doesn't mean I'll return the favor. So go. You’re free to go back to your meaningless, pa _thet_ ic, lonely little life!”

I hear my mother simpering at me while she locked up the kitchen knives. I hear my perfect sister and her husband arguing in their trailer. I hear Edward's calm tortured voice: "I like you, Lee, but I don't think I'm going to offer you the job." And that thing that had snapped earlier breaks the rest of the way, and something dark and coiled leaps free from the abyss. Infuriated and hurt by his words, an almost animalistic snarl escapes my throat as I lunge for his, an amused little whoop issuing from him as we crash to the ground. Rolling around on the floor like two growling little puppies (me from anger and him from mocking me), my mind can only focus on trying to make him suffer _._

Bearing him to the ground, I dig my nails into the base of his neck, feeling his flesh split beneath my touch and blood stain my fingers. His eyes roll back in his head with a satisfied groan as he goads me to continue. Disgusted that the freak is enjoying my emotional turmoil, I draw back and deck him. Using the momentum, he rolls us over and pins me to the floor. His narrow hips keep me in place as one hand holds my wrists against my chest, the other producing a knife from his pocket and pressing it to my throat.

“Now _that_ was fun. But now it's my turn.” The sharp serrations of the blade dig into my skin, and I hold my breath. I can tell he wants to feel my fear, torture me with terror, but all I can think of is the knife, and how badly I want to feel it. Closing my eyes, I heave a breathy sigh and gently press up. It cuts into me just a little, and my hands grasp for the lapels of his coat as a hint of blood trickles down my neck.

I've shocked him. His eyes are so wide I can see white all around the iris. But will he want to play with such an intriguing toy, or simply kill me for interfering? He moves the knife a few inches away before leaning forward and catching the droplet with his tongue. Now **I'm** shocked. He lets go of my wrists and I snake my hands under his arms to rest on his shoulder blades.

He gives a little murmur against my neck before licking my wound again. Dull pain couples with erotic sensation to make me shudder, my nails digging into his shoulders as I lift my hips in anticipation, my nipples tightening as warm heat pulses between my thighs. _“Oh…”_ is all my brain can manage.

Suddenly taking notice of my arousal, he lets out a growl and retaliates with a swipe of the blade across my upper arm. Opening my mouth in a silent scream, I give a gasp of delight and press my hips urgently against his. I can read his confusion as my eyelids flutter rapidly, and I watch his gaze grow darker as he drives the blade in above my collarbone, a moan of anguished delight escaping my lips as he gives it a twist for good measure. The burning, white hot sensation of steel tearing through muscle and tendon makes my heart pound with excitement. In some bizarre way, it makes me feel alive.

“Don’t stop.” The desperation in my voice surprises both of us. I slip one arm free and place my hand over the Joker’s bloodied one, pushing the knife in deeper as I beg. “Please… _don't stop._ ”

A flash of fury blazes in his eyes as he seems to realize that he's lost control. Physical responses he could handle; hell, even _he_ has an erection, but this? I wasn’t like all his other victims, because I wasn't crying or scared; the closest thing to normal was begging for my life, only because his torture seemed to be the only thing keeping me alive. With a snarl, he pulls back and clocks me hard across the face, his wrath only mounting when I give a little whimper and dig my nails into his chest. “Hit me again,” I urge, and he does, a low backhand that causes my lip to split. He watches my pupils dilate with passion as I lick my busted lip with a moan. The Joker takes note of my bloody mouth as well, and I can almost see the gears turn in his head. His movements are slow and deliberate, the sound of his heavy breathing fills my ears as he leans forward and tentatively flicks his tongue across my lip. He moves to do it again, and I curve my fingers around his head, pulling him down, sucking on his invasive tongue, feeling his body stiffen in surprise when I hook a leg over his hip.

Tasting my blood on someone else is strangely erotic, and I keep his scarred mouth against mine as we grope and tear at one another. A savage rumbling in his chest warns me when I feel him move to strike again. Mimicking his earlier move, I manage to catch his wrist, rolling my body over top of his as I take his knife and slice open the front of his shirt. His hips give an involuntary jerk in response, his stiff arousal now placed perfectly between my thighs. I draw a steadying breath and slash the blade across his chest. I grow even wetter when I hear him groan and curse, but he quiets as I lift the knife to my mouth and hesitantly lick at the blade. Even amidst my most masochistic rituals, I have never once been aroused by the thought of ingesting a lover’s blood, but somehow the thought of swallowing his essence – _any_ part of him – makes me all hot and bothered. I'll bet he doesn't think I'm boring now.

Before I think to cut him again, he wrenches me back beneath him, holding my wrists over my head in a crushing grip as he pries the knife from my grip and pockets it. I struggle half-heartedly beneath him, squirming to get him back against me. His eyes momentarily roll back in his head, and I repeat the action, fascination budding as I watch his features transform from deranged excitement to pure carnal lust.

Sliding his hands around my throat and squeezing, he aligns himself with my core before giving a violent thrust, alternating the pressure of his hands as he rams me over and over. I bend my knees up to cradle him. I can't quite reach his shoulders, so my newly freed hands rest above his hips to push him closer. The friction is maddening, the slight asphyxiation intoxicating, but the reality of the situation still makes me want to retch. How can I _possibly_ be aroused by this monster? He’d belittled me, cut me, practically killed me, and yet… Oh, _God_... he's awful, and misguided, and... perfect, all at the same time.

A gasp breaks from me as the Joker lets go of my throat and bites down on the sensitive skin of my neck. I hear him growl against the unbroken flesh. Animalistic grunts escape his lips as he continues his gyrations against the short, stretchy fabric of my black skirt. His groans become more desperate as he lifts my legs to rest around his hips so he can hammer more urgently against my heat, his mouth falling down upon mine as he licks and gropes at my body in fervid desperation. I want to touch him back – bury my fingers in his hair, drag my nails down his spine – but it's no longer allowed. He catches my roving hands with one of his own and locks them above my head. The searing pain in my shoulder nearly sends me off right there.

He stops a minute to slip a hand between us, shuddering as my arousal soaks his glove. A harsh tug on my panties and the fabric rips; he throws them aside. His lips hover just out of reach as he hisses, “What is it you _want_ from me, hmm? Is it _this?_ " Curling his fingers inside me, he probes for the special spot that would have brought me to my knees if I'd been standing, stroking steadily, a triumphant smirk coming to his lips when I tremble and pant beneath him.

“Or maybe you'd rather have this?” the Joker tries again, abruptly withdrawing his fingers before unzipping his pants and pulling my heat flush with his freed arousal. My body takes a moment to stretch and accommodate this new invasion before I answer. Giving a strangled whimper in response, my eyes go back in my head as his hips begin to grind against mine, pumping into me at a more feverish pace than before. Stars explode behind my eyes as I am swiftly brought to a violent orgasm, my thighs squeezing his waist and my shoulders threatening to dislocate as I arch my back and listen to my screams echo off the cold stone walls...

 

**Author's Note:**

> for better or worse, this was a dream I had. after a few drinks and a film fest of Dark Knight and Secretary (hey Maggie G in 2 diverse roles.)  
> it could continue, or I could take it down in 48 hours. hope you... didn't hate it.


End file.
